


One Good Nudge

by nightfalltwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Humor, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, adult wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: Hermione is helping George with the shop while Fred is away on business.  A small mishap with a new Wheeze causes some interesting changes.





	One Good Nudge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auntlynnie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=auntlynnie).



> Written for the **2011** Hermione_Smut exchange on Livejournal. George Weasley is one of my favourite characters to write and I had so much fun with this. Thanks to **G** for the beta and not stamping out my sentence fragments and stylistic stream-of-consciousness bits and bobs. :D

In retrospect, Hermione should have known better. Volunteering to help George at the shop in Diagon while Fred was on the continent securing suppliers for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had seemed like a good idea at the time. She'd needed the work experience in understanding potion and spell invention if she was going to get a job in the Ministry and this was, in her opinion, a perfect opportunity. All she wanted was to log enough time with Fred and George as a volunteer and she would stand a better chance at getting into the training program for the Magical Reversal Squad. That's what she wanted to do. It was something at which she could truly excel.

But standing in George's workroom without a stitch of clothing on caused Hermione to rethink her career goals.

Now Hermione Granger wasn't the sort to just remove all her clothing and stand in the middle of someone else's basement. She'd been looking over a wheeze in progress and following George's notebook to the letter (step seven: three one inch pieces of kneazle whisker at fifteen minute intervals) when one of the gaskets on the contraption in front of her had come loose. A purple cloud of smoke had escaped from the breech and the sound of it doing so was more of a bang and a crash. It had enveloped Hermione, causing her to cough and flap her hands about. How a cloud of smoke could make such a sound, she didn't know.

Nor had she cared. Because, all at once, her clothing had dropped to the floor with a splash. A river of herringbone patterned liquid now slid across the tiles toward the grate in the middle of the room. Hermione watched in horror as her favourite skirt drained away.

"Hermione?!" George shouted from the top of the stairs. "Are you alright? I heard something."

"I'm fine!" Hermione squeaked in a panicked voice. But that didn't stop him from descending and she dove behind a set of shelves, her face hot with embarrassment. "Please. Just... go upstairs George."

But he didn't. Damn him.

Hermione crossed her arms over her bare breasts and stared at George, who was following the slow progress of her liquefied green jumper as it slid across the floor to the drain. He scratched his head in confusion and glanced over at her briefly. It took him a moment to realise that she was naked and she watched as the tip of his good ear turned red. Without speaking, he shrugged out of his robe and tossed it over to her, though she did see a strange sort of look pass through his expression when she made to catch it.

"Your wheeze... " she said angrily, shoving her arms into the sleeves of his robe. "Your wheeze melted my clothes!"

"It's supposed to do that. Sort of." George explained, putting his hands up in almost a _please stay calm_ gesture. "It's a... well it's for our line of adult wheezes. The clothing isn't supposed to change composition, but it _is_ supposed to slide off into a pile at your feet."

"I'm naked, George!"

"I am well aware of that, Hermione," George said with a hint of amusement in his tone. He covered his mouth with his hand.

"Don't laugh at me!" Hermione snapped and folded the fabric around her naked body, her voice cracking. She hurriedly wiped tears with the sleeve of his robe, ignoring how it smelt rather nice and how she had this strange urge to ask him if he wore cologne. Wheezes, she thought bitterly, they were tantamount to mind control and this was so, so, _so_ awful! All at once, warm arms came about her shoulders and she blinked, suddenly realising that George had crossed the room and was now standing in front of her, hugging her close. Her forehead pressed against his chest, his heart beating steadily against it.

"I'm not laughing at you, Hermione," he said with an assurance in his voice, patting her back comfortingly. "C'mon. The girls can handle the shop for now. Let me take you upstairs to find something to wear."

She sniffled and looked up at him skeptically. "You're six inches taller than me. What could you possibly have that would fit? My wand is upstairs... I'll get it and apparate home."

"I wouldn't recommend that," George said carefully. Hermione didn't ask but she did give him a sharp look and he sucked in a deep breath before looking at her. "You were just covered, head to toe I might add, in an untested wheeze. I don't know what sort of things could happen if you just apparated away or tried to perform magic." He pointed to door behind her. "That has a set of stairs that goes right up to the flat above the shop. No one will see us."

*##**##*

George held out a pair of striped boxer shorts and a t-shirt to her. Of course he didn't have a bra or knickers. If he'd had those, Hermione would have probably walked home because that was just a little too odd for her. After he'd run a few tests over what skin she would expose to him, George declared that she didn't need to have a shower. Or at least he didn't think she had to shower. Which she promptly insisted that she absolutely did need a shower and asked for a towel.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was being given clothing.

Eying the shorts with a bit of a frown, Hermione finally took them from him. Well. At least they were clean.

George turned his back. The problem with the flat above the shop was that it was _very_ open concept. What sort of privacy did twins need anyway? Apparently they didn't invite girls up into their humble abode and had no such need for silly things such as walls or doors. Except on the loo, but that wasn't big enough to turn around, let alone change into clothing that was ill suited for her.

"Can I ask you a few questions?" he said after a moment.

Hermione glanced at his back and flushed because her eyes immediately trailed down to his bum. Pinching them closed, she shimmied into the shorts. They were a little tight over her hips. Curse Weasleys and their narrow bodies. Even the stockier side of the family still had hips and thighs narrower than hers. Clamping the towel under her arms, Hermione paused.

"Alright..." she said hesitantly.

"What did it feel like?" he asked. "Like I said, we haven't tested that wheeze yet. Initial reactions are usually recorded by Fred and I... I'd like to know what you felt."

"Before or after my clothing melted off?" she asked wryly.

"Both actually," George answered, partly turning his head and looking at her through his peripheral vision. He cleared his throat and turned back so he wasn't seeing her. "We're trying to get it to create physical sensations to accompany the whole clothing aspect."

Hermione squirmed slightly. She hadn't wanted to mention anything outside of her initial anger about the clothing, but she did feel different. She'd felt different since the cloud of smoke touched her skin and went up her nose. Parts of her tingled in a way that they hadn't tingled before and she found herself more aware of things, especially about him, that she'd not considered. But of course it had to do with a wheeze. It wasn't real and that made her a mixture of emotions, the most prominent being disappointment. With a sigh, Hermione tugged on the shirt and began rubbing her hair with the towel.

"You can turn around," she said and when he did, she sat heavily on the bed, the motion causing her to bounce a bit as he turned. "I feel strange, George. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it. I feel hungry, but not for food."

George moved across the room and sat on the bed. He leaned back and propped himself with his hands behind him. Hermione glanced over at his profile and then went back to rubbing her hair with the towel. She frowned slightly knowing that it was going to dry into a bushy and uncontrollable mass and she didn't even have something to tie it back with. Hermione had not necessarily been the kind of girl to really devote substantial portions of time to her hair and makeup, but she did make some sort of effort to keep her hair under control and things like blow dryers and round brushes were not prevalent in a bachelor's flat.

She was lucky if she found toilet paper in the flat that Harry and Ron shared.

Folding the towel, Hermione rested it on her lap. George hadn't said much in response to her answer to his question. She didn't like the silence so she took a deep breath and turned slightly to look at him. "Were you expecting it to do something specific?"

"No. Hungry is good way to describe it." George snapped out of his reverie and offered her a playful smile. "It's supposed to lower inhibitions and take away all those psychological blocks that people put up so that they don't act on feelings that they're already having."

"Mind control potions aren't exactly legal, George," she pointed out with a tiny bit of a huff.

"It's not forcing you to do anything you don't want to do. It's just stopping you from holding back because of some sort of sense of 'no it's wrong' or 'I like him or her but I'm afraid to take the first step' or 'it would be really nice to put my hand on George's leg but I really shouldn't.'" George turned his face toward her and tilted his head.

Hermione was confused by the last remark for a very brief moment and then with a slight flutter in her stomach, she looked down. She didn't remember doing it, but there her hand was, resting against his thigh, her fingertips brushing the inside seam of his jeans. It would have made perfect sense to snatch her hand away and make excuses and say something about how she hadn't meant to do that and his silly wheeze was making her do things. It would have made perfect sense, but he'd just said that the wheeze allowed her to do something that she'd wanted to do. The idea that she wanted to touch George that way seemed to churn about in her head at an abnormal pace.

"But I... I don't..." she stammered, still unable to (or rather, not wanting to) lift up her hand.

"You must have entertained the thought at some point," George said thoughtfully and there was a smile in his tone. His hand found hers and covered it.

"Well I have, but you were never supposed to find out," Hermione blurted and then covered her mouth with her free hand. She could feel her turning red and knew that she probably looked like an unattractive, bushy-haired tomato. She was so embarrassed and all at once she felt like bursting into tears. Ron and her had never really worked out and facing that sort of rejection again wasn't something Hermione wanted to ever experience. It was why she'd never said anything. It was why she had carefully kept her thoughts to herself and perhaps only sneaked a glance at George every now and then.

Her luck with Weasleys wasn't the best and she hadn't wanted to try it out. And fail.

"And now I have. So you can act on it," George said. His foot had moved somehow and a sock was brushing against her toes. She hadn't even noticed him taking off his shoes.

Hermione shook her head vigorously and the damp ends of her hair hit against her face. "I _can't_ ," she insisted. "That wheeze of yours is causing all of this. I can't act on anything if what's behind it is just some sort of magic potion. Do you know how awful I'd feel after the wheeze wore off, George? I'd never be able to show my face at The Burrow again. I don't even know if I'm going to be able to show my face _now_ because of all of this and I'm so confused about everyth--"

All the words that had been tumbling out of her mouth, unbidden, came to a complete stop. Not because she chose to stop talking but because they were blocked by George's lips. Hermione almost panicked. She didn't know what to do or what to expect and oh his lips felt good and it was so much better than the kisses she'd shared with Ron who had been all open, sloppy and far too much tongue. George's mouth was warm and just a little wet and Hermione felt her free hand reach up and grab the front of his shirt, holding on tight.

"Obviously the wheeze still needs a bit of work... if you're still thinking that hard and that much," George said, his voice husky. He'd not pulled back that far and as he spoke Hermione could feel his lips brush against hers. She couldn't help but smile. Wheeze or not, this made her pulse race and her head spin and warmth pool low in her belly.

"I always think this hard and this much, George. How long have you known me?" she asked and in a fit of daring, she stuck out the tip of her tongue and traced it along his lower lip. The sound that he made, some kind of cross between a groan and a sigh, caused her toes to curl up just a little.

"Known you quite some time, Hermione Granger," he said, running his fingertips along her hairline and attempting to push back some of the hair behind her ear. A useless gesture as the hair had a mind of its own and wouldn't stand to be tucked. "Might have wanted to do this for quite some time as well."

Before Hermione could answer him, before she could tell him that her heart was thumping wildly, before she could let all those little doubts that she knew were there creep back into her head, he was kissing her again. This time the kiss was harder, this time the kiss said something more and was filled with much more need than the first, his lips slanting across hers hungrily. Hermione couldn't help but fling her arms around his neck and kiss him back with a fervor that matched his. She'd never known this kind of desire and this kind of _want_ and she didn't want to consider that it was because of one silly wheeze.

Perhaps George was right and all she needed was the chance to not think about the consequences of her actions.

So Hermione made a decision. She was going to let this go as far as it needed to go. Judging by the kisses and the way his hand was creeping up under the t-shirt he'd given her, it probably needed to go much further than she'd ever let someone go before. Her breath hitched as his fingertips found her breast and she felt him smile against her lips before he drew back and began to kiss her jaw and then her neck. He was very good at this. Very good. How could someone possibly get this good? Not that she had any really strong basis for comparison, mind you, but this was _brilliant_. A slight gurgling noise came out of her mouth when his thumb brushed across her nipple.

"George..." she whispered. He paused and his hand started to draw away. Hermione flattened her palm over his and held it still.

"I really will stop if you tell me to stop," he said seriously, lifting his head to look her in the eyes. His expression was nothing short of pure honesty and she couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat at the courteous nature of his offer.

"Maybe you should have been the one to inhale that wheeze," she said with a bit of a smile and let go of his hand in order to tug off the t-shirt and fling it aside. It was the first time in her life that she had ever been so brazen. Her cheeks went pink, but she soldiered on, trying to be much more casual than she felt. "I'm sensing a lot of hesitation from you, George. Which is disconcerting, considering you're a Gryffindor."

"Point taken," George grinned at her and pulled off his polo shirt, standing briefly to undo his jeans and pull them off as well. Hermione thought it a bit silly that they were both wearing striped boxers and she almost laughed until he pushed her back on the bed and kissed her again.

His hands began to roam over her body and taking her cue from him, she tried to mirror his touches without tangling her arms with his. It didn't work and she sniffed in frustration, not knowing where she was supposed to start. Obviously sensing her struggle, George took her hand and flattened it against his chest before sliding it down his stomach and pushing her fingers under the waistband of his shorts. Hermione's eyes widened as he guided her fingers, first over the somewhat bristly hair and then to curl around his erection.

Hermione had read enough romance books to sort of know what to do next and she closed her eyes, giving his length a slow stroke.

A strangled sort of sound seemed to come from deep inside of George's chest. Encouraged by the noise, Hermione gave him a bit of a squeeze and then started to slide her hand faster along the shaft, brushing her palm over the tip as she drew her hand up. She liked this. She liked the sounds he was making. She liked that she seemed to be _good_ at this. She wanted to stroke faster and it dawned on her that he was perfectly willing to let her. So she did.

However, it wasn't long before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away.

Hermione's lip poked out in a bit of a pout. Then she pulled it back in because she felt silly for pouting. "Was I doing something wrong?"

"God, no," George said, sucking in a deep breath. "But there's only so much a bloke can take before he forgets that there's someone else in the room."

It took a little bit of time for George to gain his bearings and then he was sitting up, his hands reaching for the shorts she was wearing. He hesitated and looked at her until she realised he was waiting for permission and she nodded. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, George dragged the boxer shorts down over her hips, toward her knees and when he lifted her legs up to pull the shorts off her feet, he caught her ankle and pressed a kiss to the little bone that jutted out just above her foot. Hermione shivered and, suddenly feeling a little shy, she splayed her hands across her pelvis to cover herself.

"Don't do that," George said softly and drew his hands up over her legs to her knees then further up to find her wrists and draw away. He looked at her with a very serious expression on his face. "You're beautiful. Don't ever think that you aren't."

Hermione opened her mouth to disagree, found that all thought disappeared from her head quite suddenly and entirely without warning. George had begun to draw his fingers along the damp flesh between her thighs, stopping briefly to circle them around the little bundle of nerves. Hermione was embarrassed to hear that the whinging sound filling her ears was coming directly from her own throat and she pinched her eyes shut trying to concentrate on the delicious, delicious feeling that he was creating. Sure she had done this on her own in the dark of her room and, sure, she'd been mostly successful at bringing herself off, but this... this was something entirely different. Hermione was seeing _stars_.

Then all at once he stopped what he was doing. Hermione whimpered and squirmed on the bed, entirely too worked up and a little upset that he'd ceased. But then. Then she felt him settle between her thighs, his hips fitting against hers and the tip of his erection pressing against her. Somewhere along the line he'd lost his own pair of shorts and quite suddenly it was very, very real. Hermione couldn't help herself and slapped her hands across her mouth, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Are you alright with this?" George asked in a strained voice.

Hermione nodded.

"Are you frightened?"

She nodded again.

"Am I your first?"

Nod.

He kissed the backs of her hands, which still covered her mouth and then her forehead. Then he touched his head to hers and looked her in the eyes. "It might be uncomfortable to start. Do you trust me?"

Slowly her hands moved away from her mouth and she cupped either side of his face and gave him a bit of a wavering smile. But she was certain about what she was about to say. Absolutely certain. "I trust you."

George caught her hand and urged her to wrap her arm around his neck then catching her lips with his, he slowly pushed forward. Hermione held her breath and it was uncomfortable, just as he'd said, but it wasn't entirely unbearable and after a moment the tight sort of feeling started to wane and was replaced by this intriguing sort of throb. It helped that he was kissing her. It helped that his tongue was battling with hers and distracting her. It helped that he was being slow and gentle and his hips were moving in only slow and somewhat shallow thrusts.

But she wanted more.

So Hermione rolled her hips experimentally up against him just as he rocked forward and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Curling one leg up against his hip, she did it again and couldn't stop herself from moaning. George pressed his forehead against the curve of her neck and she could hear his breathing, which seemed almost laboured. It dawned on her after a moment that he was struggling to keep some sort of control and to know that she, Hermione Granger, had this sort of effect on him was thrilling. Hermione slung her other arm over his neck and rolled her hips a little bit harder.

"I'm not going to break, George," she whispered into his ear and impulsively turned her head to catch the lobe between her teeth, nipping it.

George didn't need to be told anything else. He took her cue and his pace increased. Every thrust caused little electric bolts to shoot up her spine. She tried focusing on the sensation, but found herself unable to do anything but just _feel_. It was brilliant and amazing and she wanted it to go on forever and wanted it to stop and wanted it to reach whatever ending it was aiming for and all of these notions seemed to come out in some jumbled cry of: "More!"

Then his hand slipped between their bodies and his thumb or his finger or something began making slow circles around that bundle of nerves Hermione felt all the air whoosh out of her lungs. She hadn't expected _that_. Eyes flying open in surprise, she blinked at him. The caresses continued and everything became focused on that one little spot. Hermione could feel everything, every nerve ending in her body coiling up and tightening. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to gulp in a breath.

George leaned close and gave her a lop-sided grin. "Let go," he said and kissed her, pressing his finger against her sensitive flesh.

The flat could have caved in around them in that moment. London could have caught fire and the inferno could have swept through the city destroying everything. England could have been destroyed in some freak meteor shower. The world could have ended and she wouldn't have noticed because at that moment Hermione only knew one thing and that was how every single one of her muscles was throbbing and clenching. It was amazing, brilliant and she wanted to scream and she thought she was screaming. Some sort of sound was coming from her and, whatever it was, it was exactly right for the moment.

His thrusts became erratic and suddenly stopped as he arched back, shuddering against her before almost collapsing on top of her. Hermione pressed kisses to his lips and cheeks, running her fingers through the sweaty strands of hair at the base of his neck.

Then all at once everything became a bit too real. Hermione's face fell slightly. She looked at George, touching his cheek.

"Don't have doubts," he said softly, sliding off of her and pulling her against him.

"But what if.." she began but was silenced by his finger against her lips.

"No what ifs either," he gave her a mock stern look. "If you start over-thinking this Ms Granger, I'm going to be very cross."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. He certainly could lift her spirits. Maybe this was something that could really work, her and George. She'd not thought it was possible, but he almost felt like the perfect fit. Certainly in more ways than one. Oh lord, she was never going to hear the end of this. Covering her face, Hermione groaned, though it was out of anger or frustration or anything but sheer embarrassment.

"What is it?" George asked, concerned, pulling the blankets up over them.

"I'm just trying to picture how to explain this to people," she said with a laugh. "It started with a rogue wheeze. George, do you realise how absurd that sounds?!"

George joined in the laughter, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the crown of her head. "You just needed a good nudge in the right direction. I don't see why we have to tell people how that came about. Do you?"

The nudging wheeze, however, remained in testing. There were still a lot of kinks that needed to be worked out. George didn't tell Fred why he'd decided to delay the release of Adult Wheezes. Hermione didn't tell anyone why she'd started dating George. Fred had his suspicions, but chose not to pursue them because he knew his brother had always had a long-standing attraction toward Hermione and was genuinely happy that someone or something had shoved the pair together. Hermione started working full time for the twins in product testing, pulling very long hours and helping the pair come up with some interesting new inventions.

She'd never thought that pranks and gags could be this enjoyable.

It worked out for all involved.

Especially Hermione.


End file.
